Mrs Holmes
by uniquename200's NEW ACCOUNT
Summary: The Moriarty Network was never completely destroyed. After waiting for seven years, a new leader has emerged that threatens the blissful life of Molly Holmes and her family. In an effort to save her family, she teams up with her husband to bring back the one thing that matters most, while finding surprising secrets about her family along the way. (Sequel to Miss Moriarty)
1. Chapter 1: To Emma Holmes

**Guess who's back!**

Yep, it's me again! I've come back with a sequel and I hope it will be as good as the first. I know that I was supposed to release this mid-June but I didn't get to because my life has been really busy. **I have really big news and I'm glad to tell you that...**

**I GO TO COLLEGE THIS FALL!**

****Because of that, I don't know if I can get the chapters up as quickly because of my life (I've got a new job too so that adds to the stress) but I will try really hard to get stuff written. I won't forget about you guys!

**_Anyway, enjoy your read!_**

* * *

**(Bucharest, Romania- January 25, 1981)**

_A twenty-seven year old Charles Moriarty walked into the Targul Vitan-Barzesti Market with his Romanian wife, Maria, who was about 7 months pregnant. They were expecting a baby boy in March and the criminal empire that his own father had left behind was growing steadily. He had high expectations for his unborn son and he expected the boy to take control of the family business when he grew older._

_Charles was blinded by his joy and current success, to the point where he no longer took notice of anything other than his son, wife, and business. National matters did not concern him, unless they affected his business. He had changed considerably and had gone from a charismatic and talkative person to a quiet and calculating businessman. Charles no longer kept contact with his friends (not like he had any in the first place) and his past, for that matter. However, being ignorant of the figures from his former life would soon prove costly for him._

_He failed to see the young woman following them discreetly. She weaved in and out of the market stalls, eager to catch up to Charles. Loud calls from the vendors filled the air and the snow fell lightly on the tents. The woman pulled her coat closer to her body and walked behind him. She finally noticed Maria, who had stopped at a food stand and was talking animatedly with the vendor in rapid-fire Romanian. The woman wondered who she was and came to the devastating realization that Charles had a wife. Maria emerged with a bag of hot covrigi and offered some to her husband._

_"I'm fine, love. You need it much more than I do," he said gently as he led her along._

_"No, that's not true! No one can resist a hot covrigi. It's just not done," Maria said stubbornly. Charles chuckled lightly and the couple munched on the warm pretzels in the winter chill. Maria went off to buy some vegetables at the stand in front of them and the woman took this chance to talk to Charles._

_"Hello, Charlie," she said. Charles turned around at the sound of his nickname. No one called him that, except for his wife. He glanced over at the woman and a confused expression came over his face._

_"I'm sorry, do we know each other?" he asked._

_"I'm Amelia. You remember me, don't you?" she said, with a hint of panic in her voice. Charles shook his head, feeling sorry for the woman. He honestly could not remember who she was._

_"No, I don't believe we've met," he replied._

_"We went to the University of Bucharest together. You were a foreign exchange student from England. I dated you for six months before you transferred," Amelia said. After a few seconds, he soon began to remember Amelia. He had loved her long ago in his university days, before he had to transfer during his last year of university to the Alexandru Ioan Cuza University in Iasi. Charles had met Maria, a bright and promising medical student, and quickly fell in love with her. He received his MBA when he was twenty-five and married Maria a year later. Charles had all but forgotten about Amelia and was a bit surprised to see her today._

_"I remember you now. Amelia Antonescu, isn't it?" he said. Amelia's eyes brightened and she nodded._

_"Charlie, do you remember that one ni-" she began._

_"I go by Charles now," he said in a cold sort of tone. Charles felt a bit uncomfortable with having his former girlfriend call him by his nickname. Only his wife called him Charlie and he liked it that way._

_"Right. Do you remember that one New Year's Eve party we attended before you left?" Amelia said hesitantly._

_"...Yes. What about it?" Charles said. He remembered that night and that he had woken up next to Amelia in her flat. Charles had left without saying goodbye and disappeared to Iasi. Amelia pulled aside her coat to reveal a sling beneath it. There was a little boy inside, who had Charles' brown hair and piercing blue eyes._

_"This is Alexander. He's a year old. He's your son," she said softly. He stared incredulously at her and touched the little boy's hand. He stared up at him and in a moment of comprehension, the little boy looked at him like he knew that this man was his father. Charles glanced at him and shook his head. He had never planned for Amelia to get pregnant. There wasn't much he could do now and he knew how angry his wife would be if she found out about Alexander. Charles could not threaten his current joy. He was expecting a legitimate son of his own, for god's sake!_

_"Amelia, I am so sorry. I can't help you," he said, his voice quiet. Amelia felt tears welling up in her eyes and she clutched at his arm desperately._

_"Charles, please! You can't do this to me!" she cried._

_"I'm so sorry. Things are different now. I cannot help you," he said. Charles put on his gloves and gave her one last kiss. "Goodbye, Amelia."_

_Charles walked over to his wife, going away from Amelia before she had a chance to protest. Amelia stood alone in the center of the market, with tears running down her face. She was alone, completely alone. Charles pulled his coat closer to him and walked over to the stand where Maria was. His wife knew he had talked to someone but she hadn't paid attention to what they had said. She held the groceries in her hands and looked up at her husband. "Who was that, darling?" Maria said._

_"It was nothing, Maria," Charles said as he took the groceries from her. He grabbed her hand and led her quickly out of the market. Maria, who had always been able to read his carefully disguised emotions easily, stared at him._

_"Charlie, it is most certainly nothing. What happened?" she said as they approached the car. He did not answer and she repeated her question, hoping to know why he was so upset. She touched his shoulder gently and he pulled away suddenly._

_"Maria, leave it be! It doesn't matter!" he snapped. Her eyes widened in surprise but she remained silent. Charles was in a mood, one that she hoped to remedy later. She sat in silence in the passenger seat and the two drove off to their home. Maria all but forgot about the incident and life seemed to go on for the couple._

_Their son, James William Moriarty, was born in the spring of 1981. They had left Romania a month before James was born in March, and moved to Charles' family home in Cambridge. Their son was an intelligent but quiet boy who, at an early age, showed that he was just like his father. A year later, Maria gave birth to another child, who they named Molly Elizaveta Moriarty. She was different from her brother and proved to be charismatic and bubbly like her mother. As the years passed, however, Charles could not expel the thoughts about Alexander Moriarty, his illegitimate son, out of his mind._

_He had never forgotten about the boy._

_Charles had chosen not to tell anyone about Alexander and continued to raise James as his eldest and only son. However, he could not deny the fact that James Moriarty was never the prodigal son._

_Alexander Moriarty always came first._

* * *

**(April 23, 2020- 7:28 PM)**

_"Mummy, mummy!"_

Molly Holmes let out a sigh and wiped her hands on a towel. That voice belonged to her daughter and she was sure of that. She walked out of the kitchen and walked into the living room to greet her visitors. It had been seven years since the incident (now dubbed the Moriarty fiasco) and her life had been quite peaceful since then. She was now the wife of Sherlock Holmes and during this time, the couple had become proud parents to Emma Marie Holmes.

Emma was a quiet, for a seven year old, and she took mostly after her father. She was lovely and sweet, not to mention the fact that she was cute, with her wavy brown hair and dark brown eyes. Emma was intelligent (as expected of a Holmes child) and she seemed to possess a strange fascination with her father's work, taking every chance she could get to go to work with him. The one thing that made her different from Sherlock, however, was the fact that she had inherited Molly's sense of charisma. She was friendly, to some degree, but she also had maintained a fair bit of her father's standoffish nature in her system. That was probably because she was with Sherlock a lot. Molly and Sherlock (with him in particular) loved the little girl dearly and life in the Holmes household was everything but normal. Much to Molly's dismay, Emma had been raised around experiments and murder cases ever since she was born. However, the little girl did not seem to mind and was genuinely interested in both her mother and father's occupations.

Molly had gone back to her job as pathologist at Bart's and Sherlock continued to uphold the title of being the only consulting detective in the world. No one dared to copy him because they knew that they could not compete with his genius. Since Lestrade was now chief superintendent, he had made the title of consulting detective an actual position in Scotland Yard. Sherlock would go there three times a week, to work on murder cases, and things were better than ever.

However, the peace had made Molly slightly uneasy. She had not forgotten what Sebastian had written to her seven years ago on her wedding day. She continued to keep an eye out for the threat that Sebastian had informed her of. Molly was afraid of this unknown adversary that threatened her family and she wanted nothing more than to stay out of the Moriarty family's way. She shook off these thoughts and walked downstairs. Molly saw her daughter and her godson, William, with Mary, John's wife. The pretty blonde was still her best friend, even after everything that had happened.

"Molly! Here's your little girl. John told me to bring her home. He says that she was lurking around a crime scene with her daddy, along with himself and Willy. Honestly, I don't even know why Greg allows them to be there," Mary said as she ruffled the little girl's hair.

"Thank you so much, Mary. I need to tell Sherlock to stop bringing her to the crime scenes. It certainly can't be good for her," Molly said. She gave her daughter a kiss on the cheek and sent her upstairs to have a snack. Molly sighed and turned back to Mary. "When will they be back?"

"I honestly don't know. John didn't say. But then again, he never informs me of anything. Our husbands seem to enjoy chasing serial killers together without informing their worried wives of when they'll be home," Mary joked.

"That's true. But that's the price of living with such loveable men," Molly said, giving Mary a grin. She bent down to about half of her height to look at her godson. "And how are you today, Will?"

William Watson was frowning petulantly. "Mummy wouldn't let me stay with daddy. Things were getting interesting and Uncle Sherlock was doing that weird thing he does," the boy said.

"Sherlock does a lot of strange things," Molly said with a sigh.

"He was describ...depic...no, that's not it. Mummy, what's it called?" William said, seemingly annoyed by the fact that he could not remember the word.

"Deducing, sweetheart. Uncle Sherlock does that because it's his job," Mary said.

"Your mother is right. Sherlock does that because he has to, and I'm fairly sure he's teaching Emma how to do it too," Molly muttered. She stood back up and dusted off her pants.

"Alright, I guess we'll see you soon!" Mary said. She said goodbye to Molly and the two left Baker Street. Molly went back up the stairs and found her daughter sitting at the table with a juice-box in hand. She was sitting on the tall stool and she looked up at her mother.

"Mummy!" she cried. The girl all but leapt out of her seat and hugged her mother tightly.

"Hello, dear. How was school?" Molly asked as she gave the little girl a kiss on the forehead.

"Terrible. I don't like school," Emma declared.

"But you're doing so well! Why not, Emma?" Molly said.

"It's boring. The other girls and boys are stupid," she said matter-of-factly. Molly stared at her daughter and started to laugh. She was just like her father! Molly knelt down and picked her up.

"That's not a very nice thing to say. Emma, dear, you have to understand that people are like that," she said gently. "What else is wrong?"

"We learn the same thing every day and I know it already. It's too easy, mummy! Why can't daddy teach me?" she whined.

"Your father is a very busy man. Besides, you couldn't possibly want to learn from him," Molly snorted. "He is a terrible teacher."

"But he teaches me lots of neat things and I like it much better when he takes me with him to see the peoples," Emma mumbled. Molly let out a long sigh. She knew that by 'the peoples', Emma was talking about bodies and crime scenes.

"My god, you've acquired a taste for it now. Next thing I know, you'll be solving cases left and right," Molly muttered.

"I don't solve them. Daddy does. Uncle Greg says that's his job. He's better than Miss Poole," the little girl said with a groan. The sound of the door opening downstairs tore Emma's attention away from her mother and the little girl sprinted down the stairs. Molly let out a sigh and decided to walk at her own pace. She couldn't possibly keep up with her daughter at this rate.

"Daddy!" Emma cried as she ran down the stairs.

"I'm home," he said as he took off his shoes. Sherlock had walked through the door and was taking off his scarf and coat. Emma hugged his knees and buried her face in his pant leg.

"Hello, Emma. What's the problem?" he asked.

"Daddy, I don't like school," she mumbled, "It's much too easy and the other children are stupid."

"Ah, I know that feeling," he said, with a look of understanding on his face. Sherlock picked up his daughter and she had a frown on her face.

"Why can't you just teach me?" she asked innocently.

"I cannot teach you full time. I have to work, Emma. But I do take you to see the crime scenes, so you can learn how to investigate like I do," he pointed out.

"I do like the peoples," Emma mumbled.

"Exactly. Now, your academics are important so try your best in school. If you don't do well, I won't bring you with me," Sherlock said as he crouched down to her height. "Deal?"

Emma nodded eagerly. "Yeah!" she exclaimed. She turned suddenly and ran off to go show him her report card from school. Molly approached her husband and gave him his usual welcome kiss on the cheek.

"She's just like you," Molly said, with a slight smile on her face.

"That's how it should be," he said proudly. Sherlock laced his fingers in between hers and led her upstairs.

"Well, maybe being too much like you isn't a good thing. You shouldn't take her to see the bodies," Molly said gently.

"Why not? It's perfectly reasonable! Emma is fine," he said stubbornly.

"Sherlock, she is exposed to gruesome murder cases and possible danger. What if there's a shooter? What if she gets shot or hurt, just for being there? That is not what I want my child to grow up with. I want her to be normal, thank you very much," she said firmly.

"I grew up with that sort of thing and I turned out fine! Normality is dull!" Sherlock protested, whilst looking offended. The couple sat down on the couch and looked over at her with a sly grin on his face.

"Besides, you grew up with things worse than this, Miss Moriarty. Man up," he teased, with a grin on his face. She frowned and smacked him playfully on the arm.

"Don't say that. You know how I feel about all of that," Molly said, with a pout on her face. Sherlock let out a low chuckle and kissed her in response, as if to apologize. He let her head rest against his chest. Molly stared up at the ceiling and felt him toying with her long brown hair.

"How was work?" he said softly.

"It was another usual day. It was fairly good, up until I found out you took our daughter out of class just for a case. Honestly, I don't even know why Greg lets you do that!" Molly exclaimed.

"I told you, it's fine. She understands what she's doing and she provides a simple viewpoint, free of any stereotypes or misconceptions," he replied. "You don't have to worry about a thing."

Molly glanced at her husband before letting out a sigh. "You know what? Fine. Do what you want. If she turns into a sociopath at your hands, then I reserve the right to say that I told you so," she said, smirking slightly. She knew how much he hated it when she said those for simple words. His eyes narrowed and he knew what she was trying to do.

And as it usually went, it was working.

Sherlock grumbled a little and crossed his arms. "Fine. You win. I won't bring her to the crime scenes," he muttered.

Molly looked at him for a while before smirking. She knew her husband well enough to know when he was lying. "You'll keep taking her there, won't you?" she said.

"Absolutely," he replied shortly. She let out a sigh and stood up. He was utterly impossible sometimes.

"Fine. Just remember, I have the right to say I told you so!" Molly said as she walked into the kitchen. She helped her daughter clean her plates and the two began to make dinner. She heard footsteps coming up the stairs as she pulled the pan out of the cabinet and she looked up to see who was at the door.

"Did you need something, Mrs. Hudson?" Sherlock said as the older woman came into the room.

"Oh, I just wanted to drop this off! Someone came by earlier and put it on the doorstep. No one was home, so I decided to keep it until Molly got home. I suppose I forgot about it. Silly me!" Mrs. Hudson said, letting out a light laugh. She set it on the coffee table and made her way back down the stairs again.

"Thank you," Sherlock called as he picked up the envelope. It was light, but he could tell that it was full. There was a red seal at the flap with a regal looking M. His eyes narrowed, knowing what the seal meant.

It was from the Moriarty family.

"Molly, I think that this is for you," he said as he walked into the kitchen.

She looked up and set the spoon down on the counter. "Really? Let me see," she said as she wiped her hands on a towel. She picked up the envelope and pulled a letter opener out of the drawer. Molly saw the seal and she immediately dropped it, like she had been burned. The mood in the room had taken a turn for the worse and it was utterly silent, save for the sound of the fan above the stove. Emma acknowledged this sudden silence with curiosity and stared at her mother.

"Mummy, you dropped it!" she exclaimed as she hopped off her stool and picked up the envelope. Molly took the envelope with shaking hands and quietly thanked her daughter. Without warning, she ripped the letter open, its contents spilling onto the table.

"I wanna see," Emma insisted as she craned her neck to see what secrets the envelope held. "Is it from Uncle Jim?"

"Emma, go to your room," Sherlock said softly. Emma was young. She didn't need to see any of this. The little girl stared up at her father, looking confused.

"Why?" she said worriedly, knowing that something was definitely wrong. Sherlock shook his head, not wanting to tell her exactly what her mother had gone through to get here, to become Molly Holmes.

"We'll explain later, dear. Go on," Molly said, giving her daughter a reassuring smile. The sight of her mother's smile calmed her down and she nodded, going off to her room. Molly turned back to the things on the table and rifled through the contents of the envelopes. They were photographs of Molly and Emma. There were a large amount of photos and she felt sick, just by seeing all of them. The very first picture was of when she had been pregnant with Emma and the last one was of Emma examining a crime scene with her father.

"What is all of this? I thought they were supposed to leave you alone," Sherlock demanded as he pointed at the photographs.

"Do you remember what Sebastian wrote to me at our wedding?" she said softly.

"How could I forget? I know you tried not to be upset over it but I knew that you were. Is this their idea of revenge? Sending us photographs of our daughter?" he muttered. Molly was shaking and she picked up her cellphone. She dialed her brother's number and waited impatiently for him to pick up. After four rings, he finally picked up.

"What is it? I was busy!" he snapped.

"Jim, did you happen to get a package from Sebastian?" she asked, with evident fear in her voice.

"No, I don't believe so. What's wrong, Molls? You sound flustered," he drawled.

"So, it's just me then?" she said hesitantly.

"Yeah, I think so. What's going on-" Jim began. She didn't bother telling him and hung up. Molly watched as Sherlock picked up a picture that had fallen on the ground. He stopped when he saw it and he set it on the table with shaking hands. It was a photo of a headstone. Engraved on the stone were these words: "_To Emma Holmes, who never stood a chance_."

"Oh my god," Molly said. Her perfect world was spinning and cracking under her feet and she felt tears pool in her eyes.

"So, it's Emma they're after," Sherlock muttered. He cleared up the photos from the table and put them back into the envelope. He didn't want to look at these, because they made him sick to his stomach. Someone was threatening his family and he could not let his loved ones be in danger. He put a reassuring hand on his wife's back and pulled her close. "I'll protect Emma. We'll get through this," he said softly.

"What if we don't? What if something happens?" she whispered fearfully.

"I won't let anything happen to her. Not on my watch," Sherlock replied. "We just need to keep her here for the time being, so that she's safe. I'll take a break from my cases and keep an eye on her. It'll be alright."

Molly nodded numbly, feeling utterly sick. She prepared their dinner in silence and found that she could not say anything for the remainder of the evening. The couple did not tell their daughter what was going on and merely said that she would be taking a break from her schooling (which pleased her quite greatly).

As she lay in bed with her husband that night, the words echoed in her mind. After much effort, she finally fell asleep. However, she could not forget what she had seen and the image was burned into her brain.

_To Emma Holmes, who never stood a chance._

* * *

So, that's it for the first chapter! I hope you can review for me and leave me some ideas, because I like those too :)

-uniquename200


	2. Chapter 2: Uncle Jim and Uncle Sebby

Hello everyone! I'm sorry that this is so late. I've been busy with my new job (it helps tremendously with college expenses) and I've also been on holiday for a bit. We went down to Florida for my graduation present! I'm still sunburnt all over...

But anyway, here is the new chapter! Thanks for all your reviews and I hope that you like this one too :)

_**Disclaimer: **Guess who doesn't own Sherlock? Me, of course. _

* * *

_**(April 24, 2020- 9:20 AM)**_

Molly woke up the next morning and rubbed her eyes blearily. She was still quite upset over what had happened and she was unable to think clearly at the moment. She padded into the kitchen and brewed a cup of coffee, to help clear her thoughts. Molly heard footsteps coming from the hallway and she felt two arms wrap around her waist.

"Good morning," Sherlock murmured.

"Morning," she said softly. Molly poured the coffee into their respective mugs and sat down with Sherlock. "How's Emma? Did she finally sleep?"

"Thankfully, she finally fell asleep at around eleven," Sherlock said. "She was worried about you, you know. Emma knew that something was wrong and she saw how upset you were. She insisted on making you feel better somehow."

"Did she really? Oh, she's so sweet. I didn't mean to scare her," Molly said with a sigh.

"I don't blame her for being scared. This is a serious matter," he replied as he took a sip of his drink.

"I know. I just don't know what to do. I'm scared of them," she whispered fearfully. Sherlock took ahold of her hand and squeezed it lightly.

"We'll get through this somehow. However, I was thinking that we could take some time away from London. It isn't safe here," he said softly.

"Yeah, that sounds good. Where could we go?" she asked.

"Well, my mother's on vacation in Italy. I have the keys to the house in Weston. We could always go there," Sherlock suggested.

"Yeah, I suppose we could. We could visit Jim and ask him about this. He keeps much more updated tabs on my family than I do," she said.

"Sounds good," he said. They both glanced over at the hallway at the sound of smaller, lighter footsteps. Emma walked into the room, rubbing her bleary brown eyes.

"Mummy, are you better now?" she said as she walked in.

"I am, Emma. Thank you for asking," Molly said as she picked up her daughter. She gave her a kiss on the cheek and ruffled her hair affectionately. "What did you want for breakfast?"

"I want cereal," Emma mumbled, still groggy from sleep.

"What do we say when we ask for things, Emma?" Molly said gently.

"Please?" she said.

"Exactly. Come on, love," Molly said as she helped Emma gather the materials for her cereal. They sat down at the table and all of them ate breakfast in utter silence.

It was Sherlock who broke the silence about ten minutes later. He set down his coffee mug and looked over at his daughter. "Emma, we have to tell you something," he said.

The girl glanced up and looked curiously at her father. "What? I wanna know!" she said.

"We're going to stay at your grandmother's house for a little while," he said.

"Nana Violet? Or Nana Maria?" she asked.

"We'll be with Grandma Violet," he replied.

"Ok. I like staying there," she said as she grinned at her father.

"We get to visit Uncle Jim, Aunt Irene, and your cousin Tommy as well," Molly added. Thomas (or Tommy, as he was better known) was Irene and Jim's child. They had gotten married, like she had expected and about a few months later, they had a son. The boy was fairly nice (considering who his parents were) but for some unexplainable reason, Emma and Tommy hated each other. Emma was about ten months older than Tommy but he still somehow found the energy to pick on her (despite the fact that she was older). There was a look of displeasure on the girl's face and she frowned.

"I don't like Tommy, mummy. He's a meanie," she muttered as she stabbed at her cereal.

"Emma, you should be nice to everyone. Even him," Molly pointed out.

"But mummy, he pulls my hair and says mean things to me!" Emma exclaimed. Molly let out a sigh and took a sip of her coffee.

"Beat him up. I taught you how," Sherlock said absentmindedly. Molly stopped to stare at him.

"Hang on, you taught her what?" she said incredulously. He finally seemed to realize what he said and shook his head.

"That's a secret between the two of us," he replied, giving his daughter a knowing look. The little girl giggled and Molly let out a groan. She stood up and more or less dragged her husband to the kitchen.

"You taught her how to fight? Sherlock, I thought we agreed to raise Emma normally!" she said.

"You and I both know how to hold our own in a fight, so I figured that teaching Emma to defend herself still fit the definition of 'normal'," he replied.

"By normal, I meant for her to be like...I don't know, like William! He's normal," Molly argued.

"But that's dull. Besides, she's going to need it now if something does happen," he pointed out. Sherlock knew exactly how much Molly cared for her daughter and he pulled his wife into his arms.

"Look, I know you worry about her, especially now. But trust me, it'll be fine. She will be a perfectly pleasant human being and we're doing fine, Molly," he said as he kissed her on the forehead. She pulled her arms around him and buried her face into his chest. He always did know how to make her feel better and she appreciated it.

"You bring her to crime scenes and I bring her to a morgue. We're such unorthodox parents," she muttered.

"I'm a Holmes, Molly. Unorthodox might as well be my middle name," he said as he smirked at her.

"And I was a Moriarty. That doesn't really make it any better, does it?" Molly said.

"I suppose not. But you're trying, and that's what counts," Sherlock said as he led her back into the kitchen. Molly merely shrugged and picked up Emma's empty bowl.

For the rest of the day, she packed their things for the trip to Weston. Sherlock had gone out at around noon to go clear up both of their work schedules. She had felt so stressed over this entire thing that she had forgotten to inform Jim that she was coming by to visit.

The Holmes family left the house at around three. As they went through the traffic, it was easy (even for Emma) to see the tension in the air. She made no note of it, however, because she was afraid of what could happen. Molly would glance at Sherlock from time to time but she sat there in silence, wringing her hands nervously. Soon, they arrived at the edge of London, where Jim and Irene lived.

Molly got out of the car with Sherlock and Emma in tow and quickly made her way to the door. She rang the bell and tapped her foot impatiently. A few seconds later, she heard footsteps approaching the door and Tommy opened the door. He glanced up at his aunt and uncle and grinned at them.

"Hello!" he shouted gleefully. Molly chuckled lightly and gave him a hug.

"Hello, Tommy. Is your daddy home?" she asked as she picked him up.

"Tommy? Who's at the door?" a voice called from the living room. Jim walked to the front door in a white shirt and a pair of pyjama pants. He looked like he had just rolled out of bed and he raised an eyebrow at Molly.

"Oh, hello. Come in," he said as he ushered her inside. Jim saw Emma and his eyes softened a little. He always did have a soft spot for his niece. Jim bent down to her height and he smiled at her.

"Hello, Emmy. Look at you, I haven't seen you since Christmas!" he said as he ruffled her hair. Emma giggled and Molly inwardly let out a sigh of relief. She was always wary of visiting Jim because she wasn't sure of what he thought of her family. Sherlock and Jim were on civil terms but she knew that they didn't approve of each other's occupations. One was on the side of the angels, so to speak, and the other was on the opposite end of the spectrum.

"Tommy, go off and play with Emma," Jim said as he stood back up. The little boy looked at his father with that expression that said, "_Do I really have to?" _There was a slight grin on his face and he motioned for him to go into the living room and play with his cousin.

He led them to the kitchen and began to make some tea. During this time, he finally glanced over at Sherlock. There was a different look in his eyes again, one akin to mistrust. "Hello, Sherlock. What brings you here?" he said as he held out his hand.

"I think that's for Molly to explain," he said as he shook hands with him. Molly saw how terribly awkward this all was and she hurried to keep the situation from getting anymore uncomfortable.

"Sherlock, could you get the envelope? I forgot all about it," Molly said. Sherlock nodded and went out the door once more, leaving the two siblings in the kitchen.

"So, how are you?" she asked as she turned to her brother.

"Doing alright, I suppose. Fatherhood has changed me for the better, you could say," he said as he took a seat at the table. "And what about you, Mrs. Holmes?"

"Well, everything's been fine until we got that...thing yesterday," Molly said. "What are you up to now? Have you finally put that degree to use?"

"To some extent, yes. However, I still cause trouble, but in a more technological aspect. I can't help what I am," he said with a chuckle.

"That doesn't really surprise me. We were raised like this. Our enculturation helps designate what we are," Molly replied.

"Point taken. I do like causing trouble. Don't tell your husband that, though," he said as he took a sip of tea. "To his knowledge, I'm a 'rehabilitated' person."

"Rehabilitated? Oh, that's a good joke. You're still the same Jim I know, but you're not as crazy as you were before," Molly said with a slight laugh.

"I was not crazy," he said petulantly, sounding miffed. They looked up at the sound of the front door opening and Sherlock came back with the envelope. He set it in Molly's hands and took a seat next to her.

"Yes, well...I got a package in the mail yesterday," she said as she handed him the envelope. He looked curiously at the seal on the flap of the envelope and wondered what was going on.

"What does the family want with you? Don't they think you're dead?" he asked as he opened it.

"Well, they should. Look what's inside," Molly said. Jim examined the photographs carefully and he finally came to the very last picture.

"Oh. Well, that's a problem," Jim remarked as he set down the picture.

"Of course it is," Sherlock said. The words came out sharper than he had intended and Molly squeezed his hand gently under the table. He let out a sigh and spoke in a more controlled tone. "Who is in charge right now?"

"I'm not sure. But, you two came on a good day. Sebby said he was coming by at four thirty," he replied, smirking smugly. He liked watching Sherlock get in trouble with Molly and he knew for a fact that Sherlock Holmes, the best detective in the world, was whipped. He could be talked out of anything, given that Molly was the one doing the talking.

"Where's Irene?" Molly asked, looking confused.

"She's down at Tesco, buying some groceries. Have some tea while you wait. I'll be back in a bit," he said offhandedly as he got out of his chair. He left the room to go put on some suitable clothes and that left the couple in the kitchen.

"Sebby? Is that seriously what you call him?" Sherlock said, sounding amused. "An unlikely nickname for an assassin of his skill."

"He got that nickname at an early age and I guess it stuck. He'll kill you if you try to call him anything else, like honey or something.I lost one of my cousins like that," Molly said. Sherlock chuckled a little bit and they soon heard the bell ring.

"Molly, could you get that?" Jim shouted from his room. Molly went to the front door and opened it to find a tall, dark-haired man standing there. Emma and Tommy had also rushed out of the living room, to see what the commotion was all about and both children grinned when they saw their uncle.

"Uncle Sebby!" Emma exclaimed. She rushed up to Sebastian and gave him a hug, with Tommy following behind her.

"Go away, Emma, Uncle Sebby likes me better," Tommy said as he attempted to push her out of the way.

"No, he doesn't!" she argued. "How would you know that anyway? You're not a mind reader. You're just an idiot."

"Don't fight, you two. I like both of you equally," Sebastian said as he patted their heads awkwardly. He was an assassin, not an uncle. He had no idea how to act around children and this was the best reaction that he could manage. Molly smiled slightly at her socially inept cousin and gave him a smile.

"Sebby!" Molly said. Sebastian glanced at her for a bit before returning the smile.

"Molly! Good to see you. What are you doing here?" he said.

"I came to visit Jim. Come on in," Molly said as she stepped aside to let him in. He eyed Sherlock with interest and watched as Jim came out of the room. All of them gathered in the kitchen and Molly explained the situation to Sebastian. There was a long silence and Sebastian let out a long sigh.

"This was sent by the new boss. His name is Alexander. Alexander Moriarty," he said as he pulled out his phone. Sebastian showed Molly and Sherlock a photograph of a man with pale blonde hair and sharp blue eyes. Both Jim and Molly looked confused, because they had never seen him before.

"Who is that?" Molly asked. Jim stared at the photo and he wondered why this man looked familiar. He sat there, trying to remember while Sebastian explained where Alexander had come from.

"To be honest, I really have no idea. He came into the family about a few months before your wedding and he was the one who found out that you were alive," Sebastian shrugged.

"Did you have any part in this?" Sherlock said in a dangerous tone. There was a look of surprise on Sebastian's face and he held up his hands.

"No! I haven't been around the family for a while. I've been out and about, doing '_business'. _I did find out that he was going to go after Molly somehow and I tried to warn her at the wedding. But I didn't think that he would do this," he said.

"He looks almost exactly like dad," Jim muttered. All heads turned to him and there was a look of alarm on Molly's face.

"You're right. But you're my only brother. There's no way..." she said, her voice trailing off.

"Unless your dad lied to you," Sebastian said casually. "Things happen. Illegitimate children can happen."

Molly was in a state of shock and Sherlock was the only one who was able to get her out of it. He put a hand on her shoulder and that seemed to snap her out of her reverie. "Alright. We know who he is and what he looks like, so all we have to do is talk to your mother," he said quietly. She nodded numbly and looked at Jim and Sebastian.

"Jim, Sebby, what do you think I should do? I know they'll come for us eventually but I honestly don't have a clue as to what I'm doing," Molly confessed.

"There isn't much you can do, Molly. It's you against them, and your chances of losing and dying are higher than that of you living and winning," Jim said.

"So what, I should give up? I won't die. Sherlock won't let that happen to me," she said defensively.

"That's not what I'm saying. There's only one thing you can do, and as cowardly as it sounds, that is to run," Jim said matter-of-factly.

"He's right, Molly. Look, does your daughter know how to defend herself?" Sebastian asked. They heard a loud shout from the living room and everyone turned to stare at the two children as they stormed into the kitchen.

"Dad! Uncle Sherlock! She punched me! I hate you, Emma Holmes!" Tommy shouted as he rubbed his reddened cheek. Molly sighed and headed over to the two kids.

"Emma, why did you punch Tommy? Apologize," she said.

"He pulled my hair and said I was fat," Emma said petulantly. Molly made the young girl apologize and reconciled them, before returning to her seat.

"I think that answers your question," Sherlock said, with a hint of pride in his voice.

"Then she'll be fine. The only thing you can do is lay low and stay prepared. I'll stay in contact and see if I can give you any information in advance but that's the extent of my abilities. If they do take her, then you can count on me to at least help," Sebastian said.

"And as for me, there isn't much that I can do. Everyone still thinks I'm dead and there's no way I can do anything without revealing that I'm alive and endangering the lives of my wife and my son in the process," Jim replied. "But like Sebby, I can try and help you, in the event that something does happen. She is my niece, after all."

Molly smiled slightly, because this was all she needed from them. She just needed their promise to help, in case Alexander Moriarty tried anything."Thank you," she said softly. "That's all I needed to hear."

"Not a problem. What are you two going to do now? Surely you're not staying in London," Jim said.

"We're going to my house in Weston, out in the country," Sherlock said as he stood up. Molly helped him gather the photos from the table and made her way to the front door,with her husband, brother, and cousin in tow.

"Thank you for all your help. Really. I'll text you guys if anything does happen," Molly said as she smiled at the two of them. She retrieved her daughter from the living room and said her goodbyes, before heading into the car outside.

"That went fairly well," Sherlock said as he started the car.

"Emma punched her cousin and Tommy called her fat. I don't exactly classify that as a good thing," Molly said in a hushed tone.

"We got the information we needed. We know who our adversary is now and what we can do," he said. Molly agreed with him quietly and they began their drive to the house in Weston.

The two hour drive to Weston was more or less silent, save for the occasional comments from Emma. The city lights soon faded and morphed into a green landscape, filled with livestock and the occasional farmhouse. They went to the supermarket in Petersfield to pick up groceries and they arrived in Weston at around 5:10 PM. The car stopped and Sherlock got out to open the door to the house. It was still in prime condition, despite the fact that Sherlock's mother had been gone for a while. He opened the door and stepped inside, letting his wife in as he did so. He headed back to the car and shook Emma's shoulder gently.

"Emma, we're here. Come on," he said. Sherlock took her by the hand and led her inside. As he shut the door, he stared outside and hoped that they had not been followed. Sherlock walked into the kitchen and helped Molly prepare dinner for them with the food she had bought from the market.

Their dinner was silent once more and as the couple headed off to bed, Molly turned to Sherlock with a worried look in her eyes. "What if he doesn't just go after Emma? I don't know what this Alexander Moriarty is like or where he came from but I'm scared that he'll go after you too. I don't want that to happen," she said softly.

"Molly, everything will be alright. The only thing we can do is run, and that isn't much but it is something. And I'm sure that he won't go after me. Don't worry so much," he said gently. She sighed and flopped back down on the bed.

"I don't know who the hell this Alexander Moriarty is but I hate him already," Molly sighed.

"I'll find out soon. I brought my laptop along, so I can see if there's any files on him that would be relevant to this situation. Tomorrow, I want you to call your mother and tell her to come here. He might go after her and maybe she could tell us about Alexander. Maybe there's something about him that explains why he was raised apart from you, something that she is solely aware of. She has to know something, anything," he said. She nodded slowly and nestled her head against his chest.

"Let's just hope that he'll delay his plans for a day or two," Molly mumbled. He let out a quiet _hmm_ in response and stroked her hair gently. The two eventually fell asleep and for a moment, they forgot about the world and all its worries.

For now.

* * *

**_(Meanwhile, at the Moriarty Manor...)_**

Alexander Moriarty sat at his desk inside the study at the Moriarty Manor. Leading the family and shaping them to do his will had been easier than he had expected, especially since they had lost all leadership after Molly's apparent '_suicide__' _a few years ago. He flipped through the things in the desk with reckless abandon, before finally coming to a faded photograph of the family, one that he wasn't in.

In fact, he would never be in any of these.

Alexander knew that he would never truly be a Moriarty. He was never raised by them. He never shared any of their childhood memories and the only tie that kept him connected was the fact that he was Charles Moriarty's biological son. Alexander stared down at the smiling faces of Maria, Jim, Molly, and Charles. He had never once considered that man to be his father, not after he had left his mother.

After Charles had left Amelia Antonescu (his mother) in Bucharest, she continued to raise Alexander for six years. She sent him to some of the finest schools in the city, which would pay a hefty price in the end. She soon lost her job at the factory when it was sold to a larger company. Amelia had realized that she was penniless and alone, without a husband and without a job. She could not pay every debt she had made due to Alexander's schooling and she was pressured to find a solution, and fast.

The one solution she found was death.

Alexander had found his mother on her bed in their small apartment, with an empty vial of her pills in her right hand. On her left hand was a small book, which was her diary. It was one of his most prized possessions, because it had told him the true story of how he had come to be and who exactly he should hate. Ah, how he despised their little family! He would cringe every time he heard their names and wanted nothing more than to see them with blood flowing out of their heads.

The door opened without warning and a man stepped in. He had sandy blonde hair and green eyes that always seemed to watch everything all at once. His name was Peter, Alexander's '_cousin_'. This man was one of the best shots in the world, behind Sebastian Moran, of course.

"Alexander, the Holmes family has been spotted leaving London," he said. "What's the plan?"

Alexander glanced at him before looking back at the photo once more. "Lull them into a false sense of security for a few days. We'll go after Molly's daughter, and then we can go after Maria," he replied. Peter nodded and exited the room to carry out the boss's orders. He left him alone in the office and Alexander stared at the faded picture in his hands. He glared at it with a look of pure hatred before throwing it carelessly into the fireplace. Alexander watched as the paper caught fire, burning the faces of those whom he would never love nor care to understand. He had decided long ago that he would never forgive Charles for leaving his mother alone to suffer and that he wanted nothing more than to see all of them dead.

He would crush their perfect little worlds (along with their skulls), one by one.

And there wasn't a damn thing in the world that would stop him from doing so.

* * *

Well. Things...got pretty intense in that last part. I'll be honest, Alexander's little spiel was probably the most fun to write. It ties with the scene where Emma punches Tommy for calling her fat. God, don't you just love children?

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed it. Feel free to leave a review and I hope you'll join me for the next chapter!

-uniquename200


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